Mothers & Daughters: Nanny’s Fairytale

NANNY’S FAIRYTALE

Winter 1840.

The next evening the family ate their dinner in the winter candlelight. As soon as their meal was finished, Lelya, Vera, Dasha, Dunya, and Aunt Nadya got up from the table and rushed to ask Nanny Nastya to fulfill her promise and tell them a fairytale. The old woman, sitting peacefully in the nursery while looking at the crackling fire in the stove, shuddered from fright when the girls ran in at once, and pounced on her.

“Nanny! A fairy tale. Please, a good fairy tale!”

“Oh well, alright! Stop shouting! I’ll tell you a story when evening comes.”

“What do you mean ‘when evening comes’? It’s completely dark now!” Lelya protested.

“Dede Andrushka has already gone to bed!” said Vera.

Time was measured by Dede Andrushka’s faithful adherence to order and punctuality. When he drank his coffee, it was six o’clock in the morning. Precisely at noon he went upstairs to into the hall and ate a spoonful of jam as a snack. At four o’clock he came to dinner. At six o’clock at night, Dede Andrushka “went to bed” (but that really meant that he was not to be disturbed by the children.) Exactly at seven o’clock in the evening, he ordered tea to be served. After this, Dede Andrushka spent an hour or two in the living room, where guests were entertained every evening. (He usually played a card game called “Boston” with them.) At eleven o’clock, he went downstairs and studied a little more, and then he actually went to bed. Everyone in the house was so accustomed to this order, that when Vera said, “Dede Andrushka has already gone to bed!” everyone understood that it was already six o’clock.

“Afterwards they’ll call you in for tea,” said Aunt Nadya.

“You won’t even have time to finish the story, really!” Lelya added.

“Okay, okay, you pampered girls!” said Nanny Nastya. “Tell me, what fairy tale should I tell you?”

“It Doesn’t matter! Whichever one you want, Nanny Nastya. Tell us the one about Ivan Tsarevich,” Vera suggested.

“We know that one by heart,” said Aunt Nadya. “

“You might as well ask for ‘Ivanushka and Baba Yaga Bony Leg,’” said Lelya, laughing at Vera. “And you, Nanny Nastya, tell us a new one!”

“Oh! A new one you say!” Nanny Nastya reproachfully remarked. “Well, sit down and listen!”

The girls placed their chairs in a semi-circle near the bed and waited, sitting quietly. They knew that Nanny Nastya did not like it when her thoughts were interrupted while she was about to tell a story. There was no light in the long, low nursery except the bright fire in the stove. Nanny Nastya adjusted the coals with a fire-poker. She then sat down, just opposite the bright light, and, placing her hands along her knees, fixed her eyes on the fire in contemplation. She then got up and went to the door leading to the stairs.

“Nanny Nastya!” they shouted in bewilderment. “Where are you going? What’s wrong!?”

Nanny Nastya did not answer, but only nodded her head reassuringly and left.

Lelya quietly jumped up and ran on tiptoes after her.

“Where are you going?!” Nanny Nastya shouted at Lelya from the lower corridor. “Go to your seat!”

“I know why she went,” Lelya laughed, skipping back to the others. “She’s probably bringing us some delicacies.”

When Nanny Nastya returned, the girls noticed that she was carrying something in her black calico apron.

“What do you have there, nanny?” Vera asked, jumping up and looking in.

“Wait, madam! If you know everything, you will soon grow old!” said Nanny Nastya. “Now, all of you get up and move away from the stove for an hour.”

The girls quickly did as they were instructed, wondering what would happen next.

Nanny Nastya raked the small, hot coals onto the very edge of the stove, and sprinkled something from her apron on them.

“Tr-tr-tr! Poof!” Something clicked and hissed in the stove, and suddenly some fat, burnt, yellow-white kernels jumped out of the stove near the feet of the girls.

Vera rushed to collect them.

“Don’t touch it!” Nanny Nastya shouted. “You’ll get burned!”

Vera sat down again, surprised.

“Popcorn,” Dasha whispered.

“Popcorn?” asked Vera. “What is that?”

“Dry corn kernels,” Dasha explained. “They swell and burst in the fire, that’s why they crack so much and jump out of the stove.”

“Then, when they cool down, it’s amazing how delicious they are,” Dunya added in a whisper.

(Both of them watched this whole scene with delight, but spoke in a whisper because Nanny Nastya did not like it when the girls talked a lot in front of her.)

Now and then, the kernels flew out of the stove and fell either on the floor or the knees of the girls, forcing them to jump to the side screaming and laughing.

“They’re firing like a cannon!” Dasha cried out enthusiastically, unable to control herself.

“Make sure your tongue doesn’t get shot off!” interjected Nanny Nastya, sternly. “Well, children, my treat is ready,” she added. “Pick them up and nibble on it while I begin my tale. It’s more fun than sitting and listening without doing anything.”

They quickly picked up the popcorn (which they thought was very tasty) and sat down once again in a semi-circle.

Nanny Nastya, who sat silent for some time, finally straightened up and said: “Today I shall tell you a fairy tale about a priest and a snake.” She rocked in her chair, gazing somewhere into the distance, over the heads of the girls. In a measured, melodious voice, as if she was reciting poetry, Nanny Nastya said. “My fairy tale is called ‘Ivan The Bogatyr And The Priest’s Daughter.’”

Ivan The Bogatyr.[1]

“In a certain kingdom,” said Nanny Nastya, “in a certain state, there lived a daring fellow, Prince Ivan the Bogatyr. That daring fellow had incredible strength and terrible power! Everyone was afraid of him, and for a hundred miles around, all the bandits fled.

“One day a village priest came to him and begged him to rescue his daughter, Annushka, who was kidnapped by the villainous sorcerer, Chernomor, who, for many years, had bewitched and pillaged the area.

“Ivan The Bogatyr did not hesitate. ‘The scoundrel will regret ever terrorizing these maidens!’ he said, saddling a fast horse. He then picked up a ten-pound tassel and drove off along the road and into the forest. Beyond that forest, in a decrepit manor, lived the sorcerer Chernomor. Approaching this unholy palace, Ivan saw a palisade strewn with the skulls and bones of the men, horses, and bulls who went before.

“Ivan drove his horse onward, and pounded the plank gate, yelling his demand for entrance at the top of his lungs. A head appeared behind the wall—but it was not a human head. It was the skull of a dead horse, bleached white by the winds and rains.

“‘What does the good fellow need?’ said the skull in a loud human voice. ‘Or do you come to seek your death?’ It then clapped its jaw, as if it were about to eat Ivan.

“‘No, I did not come to look for my death, you dead horse’s head! Unlock the lock and let me in. I have come to rescue the beautiful maiden, the priest’s daughter. I have come to take her away from the clutches of the thief, and teach the villain a lesson!’

“‘Oh! What a hero!’ laughed the dead head. ‘Flee from this place while you still can! Otherwise, Chernomor will shred you to pieces. He will feed your body to the dogs, and he will hang your foolish little head high on a stake on the fence. Look around you, brave and foolish Bogatyr! Do you not see what our palisade is made of? Those are not horse skulls? No, they are human! Those are all the heads of fine, and good fellows bewitched and killed by the evil Chernomor. His enemies, just like you, once challenged him to an honest battle. I warn you, leave quickly while the villain sleeps, for when once he awakens, you will never leave.’

“Ivan got angry and shook his sword. ‘Will you shut up? It’s a pity I can’t slay you a stupid, empty skull. Come now, open the gate at once! Otherwise, I’ll just break down the gate and vanquish you too!’

“The poor head answered him, sighing heavily:

“‘As you wish, daring hero! I shall unlock it for you but heed my words. I am not a dead horse. I am a living man—turned by an evil love spell into a dead horse. Under Chernomor’s pillow, there are keys, each weighing a pound. Do not forget them. Take them with you! With one of the keys you can unlock the basement, and inside that basement is my little human darling. She will fly out and return to me, and I will become a good fellow again! The second key will save you from trouble. It is the secret to the sorcerer’s spare life. For you see, brave prince, should you kill him now, a toad, Chernomor’s mother, will immediately crawl out of the damp ground, take that key, and unlock a secret chest in its hole. In the chest, there is a bottle of magic water that can return a dead man to the land of the living. Chernomor will simply come back to life, and chase after you.’

“‘Well, talk to yourself!’ Ivan replied. ‘Your words are just as loose as your empty skull! Unlock the gate quickly, and don’t bother me! I have no use for slippery words when I have my sword! I will slide my blade along his neck, and I assure you, the toad’s witchcraft will not save him. He will not rise up, and he will not catch his breath!’

“The gates opened, and the prince rode through—straight to the tower and called the sorcerer in a loud voice: ‘Hey, sorcerer, come out! Let us measure our strength. I will pray to God, and you call upon your black magic for help.’

“Chernomor heard his words, and boiled with anger! Trembling with rage, he took hold of his club. ‘Well done! We’ll measure ourselves, and we’ll have some fun!’ he said to Ivan, rushing towards him swinging his weapon. Ivan made the sign of the cross, received the enemy with his breast, and deftly stole the villain’s club right from his hands. Again Chernomor flew at him, and Ivan, again crossing himself, overcame his evil enemy with God’s help. Ivan knocked Chernomor to the ground and stepped on his chest with his foot. Then he took out his sword, and with one clean cut, removed the sorcerer’s head!”

Nanny Nastya suddenly fell silent.

Up until that point, she had told the entire tale in a measured, monotonous voice. She only spoke the last words louder, and when she abruptly fell silent, it created quite the effect.

The girls sat with their necks craned, and kept their eyes wide open and fixed on her. Their mouths were opened in anticipation and fear for the fate of poor Ivan the Bogatyr.

“Nanny Nastya! What are you doing?” said Vera, sadly.

Nanny Nastya did not move. She stared intently at the fire and seemed to have forgotten about the girls. The flame no longer flared up as brightly as it did at the beginning of her story, but it still bathed all of them (especially Nanny Nastya’s wrinkled face) in uneven red reflections that ran mysteriously across the dark room.

“Well, what next, Nanny Nastya? Tell us!” said Aunt Nadya.

“Nanny Nastochka!” said Lelya. “Why did you stop?”

“That’s enough for today, children,” said Nanny Nastya, decisively.

“How can it be enough?” said Lelya. “Where’s the ending? How can a fairytale not have an ending?”

“I won’t finish,” said Nanny Nastya, resolutely. “It is not good for children to listen to fairy tales for a long time at night. Look over there! Vera has her eyes wide open at me as if she was scared. That’s enough, my dear! After all, this is a fairy tale! Trifle!”

“Well, it’s nothing, just finish it!” Lelya implored.

“I’ll finish it another time!” said Nanny Nastya, curtly.[2]

~

The next evening the girls learned the fate of Ivan the Bogatyr and the priest’s daughter.

“Chernomor snored, looked at Ivan, and died!” said Nanny Nastya. “Prince Ivan the Bogatyr went to look for the beautiful maiden in the tower, completely forgetting about the order of the horse’s skull. He found her cowering in a high tower, as she fully expected the evil sorcerer to return. She was completely lost at the sight of the unexpected handsome man. Imagining that the maiden had hidden herself from him, Ivan was angry that the girl should express such ingratitude for his feat and service. Seeing his anger, the maiden explained to him what the matter was, and in silence, obediently sat down with him on his horse. When they got to the churchyard, Ivan handed her over to her father and mother, and without listening to their thanks, returned with quiet steps to his homeland.

“Meanwhile, the poor fellow turned by an evil love spell into a dead horse, turned out to be correct. As soon as Ivan rode out of the gates of Chernomor, with Annushka in the saddle, the toad crawled out of her hole, took those magic keys, and hurried quickly with the magic water. She instantly healed the wounds, and brought her son, the sorcerer, back to life. Without a second thought, Chernomor chased Ivan, encountering him on the bridge near the fishing line of his estate. Turning to black magic, a terrible power, he overtook Ivan. Something terrible happened to the prince! His head began to spin, his eyes darkened, and his heroic sword fell from his hand. The poor knight saw nothing, heard nothing, and suddenly, somehow, became shy. He slipped off his horse, and right into a ditch. Poor fellow, Prince Ivan the Bogatyr, fell into unconsciousness. He himself did not know how long he lay there, but having come to his senses, he wanted to hide the shame of his soul, even if it meant crawling into a damp grave. Ivan fell asleep as a man and awoke as a snake! Coiling his long tail, he hid beneath a bridge and began to think.

“Chernomor, imagining that Ivan had rescued Annushka because he loved her, cast the spell to destroy his happiness forever. He declared that he would forever remain a snake unless a beautiful maiden fell in love with him. For several hours the poor bewitched hero thought about his misfortune; a misfortune that would have been avoided had he not been so arrogant and prideful. If only he had listened to the horse’s skull and taken the keys with him. Suddenly Ivan heard someone driving on the bridge above him. It was the priest, Annushka’s father, and his wife. Ivan was already crawling out, blocking the road, waving his tail, and shouting angrily. ‘Father, wait a minute! Get off the cart so I can eat you freely! If you don’t get off, I’ll eat not you alone, but you and your wife!’ The priest begged Ivan not to eat them, offering to give any ransom. Ivan then demanded that one of the priest’s daughters be given to him as a bride.

“When the priest returned home, he tried to convince his older daughters to marry the snake, pitying the younger one, Annushka, who was recently rescued from the sorcerer’s captivity. But the older daughters merely laughed at the suggestion, saying to their parents ‘that the trouble is not great if the snake eats them, because it was already time for them to die.’ Annushka announced that she was prepared to go, even to death, if it meant the safety of her father and mother. The priest did not want to hear this, after thinking about it, said: ‘There’s nothing to do! Apparently, hers is a miserable fate. But perhaps she will have a good husband! God’s will for everything! Maybe the Lord himself will reward her for the sacrifice she making for her parents!’

“The following day, Annushka got into the cart with her father and mother and, amid the loud ridicule of her evil sisters, went into the forest as a ransom for her parents. She expected a cruel death, but she was mistaken. Ivan turned out to be a kind and wonderful husband. He built her a house in the forest and got up early to finish all the work. He chopped wood, carried water, picked berries for his wife, and even cooked food for her. Annushka was surprised. ‘What a dear husband he,’ she thought. ‘He speaks and sings as if he were a man, and his eyes are so bright, sometimes with sadness, sometimes with affection, that one cannot help but love him, poor husband! your soul is kinder than many people!’ When she started questioning him, Ivan admitted to her that he was not a snake, but a hero bewitched by Chernomor. Annushka was amazed and asked: ‘Do you suffer because you saved some girl, just like Ivan the Bogatyr saved me?’ Saying this, she blushed, and her husband, the snake, pretended to be jealous of the prince who saved her from the sorcerer. ‘This hero is dear to you. You must be disgusted by your snake-husband. I wish for nothing but your happiness, so I shall now go to the river and drown myself so that you can marry this Ivan the Bogatyr.’ Saying this, he crawled to the door of the hut.

“Annushka stood up behind him and was covered in tears. ‘Where are you going, my dear? Are you not my husband? Yes, you are a snake, but I love you. You are kind to me. I will not let you go to a fierce death! And why are you leaving me!? Who are you leaving me for?’ Saying this, she lifted the poor snake from the ground; and caressing him, hugging him, pressing him to her chest, suddenly a burning tear dripped right onto his heart. Then a wondrous thing happened. His cold blood flared up with heat! The prince was renewed, the fog disappeared from his eyes, and his golden scales turned into a brocade caftan/ The snake suddenly transformed into the brave Prince Ivan the Bogatyr! The young wife gasped when she saw this and embraced him tightly. Then the daring prince took her by the hand and brought her to her parents and asked for the affection and mercy of the priest-father, mother-in-law, and evil sisters. But the sisters got angry: ‘So you deceived us, sister? You’re younger than all of us, so you shouldn’t be the first to walk down the aisle! Look, what a snake you’ve picked up for your husband! We wouldn’t mind marrying someone like that!’ Then the priest’s mother intervened: ‘Whoever doesn’t feel sorry for his mother or father will not have happiness from God!’ The sisters, sulking, went away to their little rooms.”[3]

~

When Christianity was first brought to Russia, it took root in the fields of the old Slavonic gods, but as an ally, not as a supplanter. The people welcomed the teaching of the Church, and Christian ethics seemed compatible with the old zoomorphic gods, and communion with nature.[4] The festival of Maslenitsa was one such example.[5] During the ten days preceding the Great Fast of Lent in the Russian Orthodox Church, the Russians indulged in “Maslenitsa” (“Butter-time.”) Rich and greasy foods, like butter-soaked blinis (pancakes) were the staple dish. Though there was still a lot of snow on the ground, it was the relic of a pagan winter send-off holiday.[6]

We also find this pagan relic in the word “Bogatyr,” the root of which popular etymology maintained was connected to “bog,” the Russian word for god. (“Chernomor” meant “Black Death.”) Among the mountaineers of the Caucasus, the bards of remote Russian villages, and the nomadic peoples of Asia, there remained legends so rich, that entire anthropological hagiographies could be learned from them, even if all written histories were destroyed. In Tiflis, among the peaks of the Caucasus Mountains, the descendants of the Chaldeans still cherished the memories of the “Golden Fleece,” and mountaineers still beheld “Prometheus bound upon the misty summit of the mountains.”^[7]

The old gods, like the deities of the old Vedic hymns, and their friendly kindness for the worshippers, were preserved within the very language of the Russian Empire. The Slavonic language family, as it was known, spoken by at least a hundred million people, was divided into two main groups, one that was dominated by Russian and the other by Polish. In all these Slavonic tongues, heard in Great Russia, White Russia, Little Russia, Poland; in the Tsar’s dominions, the Austrian Empire, Moravia, Bohemia, Bukovina, Slavonia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, the coasts of Dalmatia to Montenegro, and the Turkish border to Servia and Bulgaria, one could find the word of “Uma,” meaning “wisdom, understanding, insight, knowledge.” Indeed, there was no Slavonic word more definite or more uniform, than the word Uma, and in Sanskrit Uma also meant wisdom, there was no difficulty in supposing that those who spoke the Slavs of the past once shared the same Vedic gods, or initiator of the gods, of the peoples of India. The connection between Slavonic and Sanskrit with the word “Veda” itself, meaning “to see,” or “to know,” was undoubted. From the root “ved” we got the Slavonic words like “vedat” (to know,) “vedatel” (adept,) “vedus” (“wizard,”) and “vedna” (“witch.”) There were other linguistic examples, of course, that left a trail to the Vedic Pantheon. The fire god Agni, for example, was found in the common Slavonic word for fire, ognya (pronounced “agnya.”) There was the Vedic wind-god, Vayu, or Vata, both names of which could be found in the Slavonic tongues in veter (“wind,”) and veyat (“to blow.”) The Vedic god, Varuna, who represented the wide firmament of night, was closely connected with the Slavonic adjective “voron,” or “vorondi” (“blue-black, dark blue, or black.”) In Russia, the word was often appropriated to the “blue-black raven.” Then there were gods common to both Vedic and Slavonic Pantheons. The god Bhaga, who has the gift of fortune in India, and whose name appears in words like “Bhagavan” and “Bhagavat,” from which we get the archaic Persian honorific “bāy” (and later the Turkish word “bey,) meaning “rich.”[8] From this same word we also get the Slavonic word for god, “bog.”[9]

The “bogatyrs,” likewise, have a lineage that go back to the pre-Christian Rus; to the folk-epics known as the bylini (“something that was.”) The term itself was popularized by Russian folklorist, Ivan Sakharov, in 1839.[10] The byliny were classified in cycles, the most important being the byliny of Kiev and Novgorod. They were preceded by semi-mythological byliny known as “The Songs Of The Elder Heroes,” which told of gigantic beings who possessed colossal strength, and who, like the Hellenic Titans, were doomed to extinction by a newer order that was to prevail. The bogatyr were part of the pagan past that became “humanized and Christianized,” over time.[11] One characteristic the bogatyr stories developed was the trait of reliance on their own strength and God rather than the use of supernatural powers.[12]

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SOURCES:

[1] Zhelihovskaya, Vera Petrovna. How I Was Little. A. F. Devrien. St. Petersburg, Russia. (1898): 57.

[2] Ibid, 49-59.

[3] Ibid, 59-64.

[4] Johnston, Charles. “Russia’s Legendary Lore.” The Calcutta Review. Vol. XCIV, No. 187 (January 1892): 1-25; Hilton, Alison. Russian Folk Art. Indiana University Press. Bloomington, Indiana. (!995): 149-150.

[5] [February 1, 1847 j. February 13, 1847 g.]

[6] Whishaw, Frederick. Out Of Doors In Tsarland. Longmans, Green, And Co. London, England. (1893): 68; Lane, Christel. The Rites Of Rulers: Ritual In Industrial Society: The Soviet Case. Cambridge University Press. Cambridge, England. (1981): 132.

^[7] “The Old Land.” Catholic Union And Times. (Buffalo, New York) December 16, 1897.

[8] Paraskiewicz (Maciuszak,) Kinga. “On The Iranian Honorific Title Bag, Baγ, Bay ‘Lord, Prince.’” In: Studies On The Turkic World, A Festschrift For Professor Stanisław Stachowski On The Occasion Of His 80th Birthday. (ed.) E. Mańczak-Wohlfeld, B. Podolak. Jagiellonian University Press. Kraków, Poland. (2010): 49-57.

[9] Johnston, Charles. “Sanskrit’s Nearest Neighbor.” The Madras Weekly Mail. (Madras, India) January 30, 1896.

[10] Alexander, Alex E. Bylina And Fairy Tale; The Origins Of Russian Heroic Poetry. Mouton. The Hague. Netherlands. (1973):13.

[11] Blakey, Kate. “Early Russian Folk Epics.” The Slavonic Review. Vol. I, No. 3 (March 1923): 525-532.

[12] Cox, Gary. “Fairy-Tale Plots And Contemporary Heroes In Early Russian Prose Fiction.” Slavic Review. Vol. XXXIX, No. 1 (March 1980): 85-96.